


Dance Me To The End Of Love

by SteppinOut87



Category: Who's the Boss?
Genre: F/M, who's the boss? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:48:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteppinOut87/pseuds/SteppinOut87
Summary: Inspired by the anniversary conversation that never was and all that was said — and unsaid — in Wedding Bells and throughout their third year together, this is a what-if scenario, set in April 1987, after Angela turned down Geoffrey's proposal and after Tony moves out of Mona's apartment and back into the house. In a safe and trusting space, Angela was willing to approach complicated conversations. What if he goaded her and she opened up to him? What if he opened up to her? What if they could trust themselves to not only to start this conversation but take a next step without having all the answers and without a road map?Tony & Angela also dance together frequently, more so in their third year together than previously — in Mexico, at the wedding, in Older Than Springtime, and the Moving Episode. Dancing bookends the entire season. Dance Me To The End Of Love (music and lyrics by Leonard Cohen) felt fitting.
Relationships: Angela Bower/Tony Micelli
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Dance Me To The End Of Love

Tony came into the living room carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. The room was toasty now that he'd lit the fire an hour prior. It was early evening in late April and despite it technically being spring, New England's Old Man Winter refused to let go without a fight. The days remained cool and the nights dropped into the mid-upper 40s. In autumn, that would feel brisk, demanding sweaters and scarves, and smell of burning leaves. In the spring, it felt welcoming, promising warmer weather, and carried the scent of early tulips in a breeze. Still, it begged for a light sweatshirt or a soft fire and a warm drink to take the chill out of the house for a bit.

The kids were at friend's houses and Mona was out on a date with one of her many suitors. She had so many beaus that Tony couldn't keep track of them all.

He was grateful for a little alone time with Angela.

She had had a crazy day at the office and been frazzled when she came home. He had prepared one of her favorite dinners, a roasted lamb with rosemary and garlic potatoes and a light salad. Still, he had insisted she unwind with a bath and music and a favorite book and then return for dessert. When she came downstairs 45 minutes later, she'd changed out of her business suit and into casual clothes, although even her casual clothes — a cozy blush pink sweatshirt and leggings, and fuzzy slippers — made her look angelic. Tony let his eyes linger a little longer, especially now that Geoffrey was out of the picture.

"I have your favorites," he teased, his brow raised. He dropped one of his favorite Sinatra records on the turntable. He loved Old Blue Eyes and he knew she did too. It was also his way of adding an aura of understated old fashioned romance into the evening.

"Mmmm, hot chocolate _and_ homemade chocolate brownies with walnuts. You spoil me!" She grinned and reached for one.

"I brought out some of that Kahlúa that was left over from my wild party too." His party. The one his Brooklyn pals insisted he throw to celebrate his move into Mona's vacated apartment about 3 weeks ago. He'd been so excited for the place and thought it was what he wanted. Until he spent a few nights there and felt more lonely than the days after Marie passed. It wasn't just the house he missed. He missed her and he missed their proximity and the way they needed each other.

There was something else too though he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. She'd been a little distant since she and Geoffrey broke up and he sensed she was sad. He wanted to give her space and then it also felt strange to him to move out on the heels of that situation. He wanted to be there for her as a friend and of course, the past 9 months had stirred up a lot more than _just friend_ feelings in him. He was relieved when she called him, insisting he help with the pilot light. He loved how he felt knowing she needed him and whether it was an excuse on her part or not — he would never ask her — he loved that she wanted him back under her roof.

Now she was the one who raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" She held out her hot chocolate and let him drop a shot of the liquor into it. "Well, this is perfect. Thank you for making my favorites and insisting I unwind for a bit. I needed a little TLC."

"Ah, well, of course. I thought you might need a little something special." He proceeded cautiously, peering at her from behind his own mug of spiked hot chocolate. "You've seemed a little distant the last few weeks. Are you doing alright, I mean, since...you know..." he trained off.

"You mean since I turned down Geoffrey's proposal? And we broke up?" She offered it with a slight smile yet her tone was matter-of-fact.

"Yeah."

"I'm fine, Tony." She nodded, calm. "Thanks for asking."

"I just wanted to make sure, you know, you really were _fine._ You guys were together a while...and it was serious."

"I'm really ok," she insisted, although it was her turn to feel suspicious. Where was this line of questioning coming from, she wondered.

"Ok."

They drank their hot chocolate in silence for a moment.

"So, do you think you'll start dating again soon?"

"What?" She was taken aback and stared at him, incredulously.

"Well, I was just wondering...," he trailed off, looking away, then peeking at her carefully from behind the rim of his mug. He inadvertently touched a nerve and he needed to back-pedal.

"Oh? Were you?" She sat her mug down and stared at him with big eyes, daring him to explain himself.

"Uhhhh..."

"You think we should date people?" she challenged him, her mind back to the night on the sofa, after the Ferguson's wedding when he massaged her aching feet. "Well, I'll tell you what. We'll find another wedding and you can be my date again and when things get too uncomfortable, you can pawn me off to whichever suit asks me to dance." She meant to deliver it with a bit more lightness and humor and yet she surprised even herself with the twinge of sarcasm that escaped.

His face registered complete surprise and a part of her felt exposed and vulnerable and and still another part of her knew the truth at the heart of her statement. She held his gaze a moment and then looked away.

Tony stared at her, seeing a range of emotions dance across on her face, and swallowed hard. He turned toward the fire in silence, unsure how to respond. He sat with his thoughts for a bit. He was shocked at Angela's candor but not by the words. The words were true and he knew it. Even Mona had called him out last fall for doing exactly that — throwing her into Geoffrey's arms.

He turned back to look at her. She started to stand. "You know, I'm just going to get another brownie," she said lightly, picking up her mug and plate, trying to diffuse the moment.

"Angela, wait." He stood and reached out and took her arm.

She jumped at his touch, the electricity racing through her veins. She paused mid-walk but didn't turn to face him.

"Angela, please." His voice was tender, gentle. He felt that same jolt pulse through his veins. He also knew her well enough now though and he sensed her fear of the vulnerability. Or maybe it was his own fear. His hands were shaking. He had no idea what to say.

Sinatra crooned in the background. _"Look to your heart when there are words to say. And never leave your love unspoken."_

He stepped closer and took her plate and mug from her, placing it on the sofa table. She turned to face him and he encircled his hands around her wrists.

Their eyes met.

"I never should have let you dance with Geoffrey."

She inhaled. She had wanted to badly to hear these words. After a significant amount of journaling she could trace back her uncertainty about Geoffrey to that moment of feeling rejected at the wedding. What Tony did had hurt. Moreover, as much as she enjoyed Geoffrey's companionship for those 4 months, the truth was, she had hoped and waited for Tony to come back around, even while she was with Geoffrey.

"I was your date, Tony," she managed to say. Her eyes, big and soft, were full of hurt and sadness.

"I know."

His eyes, those adorable eyes, were full of regret and sorrow. She could see his remorse.

There was still so much in her heart, so much to say.

"It wasn't that you _let me go_...or _let_ me dance with him. It was a rough and uncomfortable evening...the Fred and Gingers judging us...and me defending you...us...I handled it badly...but I wanted us to...to (she looked up in desperation to find the right words)...I don't know...talk about it, about us, more. I came to you, remember?" 

She paused a moment. She was feeling the affects of the spiked hot chocolate and was a bit emotional and over-confident. She went on though. "Maybe the wedding wasn't the right moment," she continued. "But... you shut it down. Then, when another man asked if he could dance with me, you were suddenly no longer my date, eager to say we were through and send me off with him. I didn't even get to have the last dance with you. You rejected me. Can you consider how that made me feel?"

He stood quietly before her, unable to form words. He'd regretted his actions, but if he was honest, it was because of how _he_ felt after. He had never considered how his words and actions would come across to her, how badly he'd treated her, and how she would feel. Seeing the tears in her eyes caused a lump to form in his throat.

"Angela." He could hear his voice crack. He was fighting back tears. "I never want to hurt you and never want you feel rejected - by me or anyone - ever. You're beautiful and perfect and you deserve the absolute best, always."

"You thought Geoffrey was the best for me? But then you waited until he proposed to say something...?" She was thoroughly confused.

"Angela...you were with him. I couldn't..." he trailed off, dropping her hands, now walking back to the fireplace. She stared at him, still hurt and confused.

"You couldn't what?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled as he turned to face her, his eyes brimming with his own tears and emotion.

"Angela, I acted like a jerk at the wedding. I let everything — all the stuff Fred and Ginger, and Wendy and Mona said — get to me. Even our conversation rattled me." He paused, then continued. "I heard what you said, that you didn't give a _fig newton_ about what people think and that you're not a snob. And I _know_ that, Angela. But _I_ cared. I _still_ care."

He paused again. What he had to say next pained him. His eyes were sad and crestfallen as he gently said, "You deserve to be with a guy who can make you happy, who can take you to those fancy clubs and parties. Someone classy like yourself. And in that moment, I didn't feel like that guy was me."

"What about now?"

His gaze turned toward the fire. It was warm, welcoming, smoldering without raging. It needed tending to, lest it go out. If he wasn't careful, he could get burned. Or extinguished. They both could. Even a small fire held so much power.

He turned back and in a small voice and sad eyes whispered, "I don't know."

"Angela, guys like me, we don't ask out classy ladies like you. Even when we really care, and have feelings, and really want to. It drove me crazy seeing you two together, knowing it was my pride that threw you into his arms, and knowing I can't give you things like he could. But then you were with him, Angela. I couldn't tell you, 'Don't go to Maine, stay home and watch movies with me.' I can't buy you diamond earrings for Christmas. You deserve those things from a guy. And as much of a jerk as he was for picking a fight with you over his Saab, I saw how hurt you were. I couldn't tell you to break up with him. When he proposed, I didn't want to overstep, but I couldn't hide my feelings either. I didn't want to loose you."

She stood, surprised, unable to move, processing what she had just heard. "You have...feelings? Toward me?"

"Well, yeah. Do _you_? Have feelings toward me?"

She laughed a bit, her eyes still moist, but touched by the sincerity and vulnerability of his words. "Yes, Tony. I do have feelings."

Relieved, he walked back to her, this time taking her arm and pulling her close. He tipped her chin to look at her. That Sinatra tune was stuck in his head, prompting him to listen to his heart. _Speak your love to those who seek your love._

"I know I messed things up with us at the wedding. I was hurt and let my pride get the better of me. I felt rejected and my way of dealing was to shut down and end our conversation and throw you to Geoffrey. I didn't think about how you'd feel, that you'd feel like I rejected you. I'm so so sorry, Angela. I never meant to reject you. I would never reject you."

She was so close to him now. She could feel his muscles contracting beneath his grip. She inhaled that intoxicating male scent of his — Ivory soap, freshly laundered clothing, and his Sure deodorant. She could lose herself in his arms, in his embrace.

Their eyes locked and his searched for the desire he felt and the consent to proceed. A little sigh escaped her.

Would he kiss her?, she wondered. Something longer and deeper than than the kiss in the van a few weeks ago? Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could both hear and feel it. His head tipped and he leaned in ever so slightly, seeking her mouth. His lips met hers, sending shivers down her spine. She stepped fully into his embrace and allowed his arms to encircle her waist and back while hers wrapped around his shoulders. Her fingers gently fondled his hair as their tongues entwined. She lost all sense of time.

He pulled back a little. He wanted more of her and he also had to be careful. This was uncharted territory.

"Oh Tony. I wanted it to be you. Since the Ferguson's wedding. I wanted you to tell Geoffrey I was with you then. And then I wanted you to tell me not to go to Maine, to stay in and watch terrible movies with you, then to stay and spend Christmas and New Year with you and the kids. I waffled so much with Geoffrey because I kept hoping you'd tell me you cared and you wanted to be with me."

"I wanted to." He said it gently and sadly.

"Does this mean you'll ask me out now?" she asked cautiously optimistic.

"I want to...I just..."

It was her turn to hold his head in her hands and stare into his eyes. "I know you worry about working for me and perception, and about being able to give me things, about providing. I know it's important to you."

"That's true. It's more than that though. I mean I see how you make your way in the world and it's enchanting and astounding." He gestured around him and added, "You did this, on your own."

He continued, "As your best friend and your housekeeper, I love it. As a boyfriend? It's intimidating. The men you've dated, they have a vocation, an identity, an independence. In addition to money. I had a taste of it for a little while when I played ball. But after my baseball career ended and I lost Marie, I was lost. I don't think I get a lot of things right, but coming here and working for you and giving Sam a better life has been wonderful for us. You've been like a mother to her when she needed a mother figure. You've been pretty amazing to me. I feel a lot less lost," he said with a smile. "But for a guy who didn't grow up with this, or even believing it was possible, it's, well, it's hard for me to see what else is possible for myself. And that makes it hard for me to see myself with you."

Her face fell and he quickly added, "I'm not rejecting you. Or us. But if we want to really consider _us_ , we need to be honest with each other and what a relationship would mean to us and to our family."

She nodded.

"I love taking care of you. I love that my role here brings you comfort and security. It's just...I don't think I want to be a housekeeper the rest of my life."

"I understand."

He looked at her. God, she was breathtaking. He moved a strand of her away from her eyes, lost in them again. The moment felt suspended in mid-air. He let his lips gently brush hers again. She moaned a little and it was all the invitation he needed to continue. He nibbled a little on her neck, breathing in her scent. She inhaled and let out little gasps. He was so aroused and was sure she could feel him now.

His kiss and the way his hands touched her hair and the small of her back sent shocks through her. Feeling his arousal grow only made her want more of him. She kissed him, her tongue eagerly searching for and finding his, her lips gently, playfully pulling on his and her hand stroking his neck and tousling his hair. She pressed her hips against his, grinding a little against him. Now it was his turn to let out a little moan. She surprised herself with how alive she became when they touched.

He came up for air long enough to regain a bit of clarity. "Wow. "

"Wow is right," she agreed with a smile.

He inhaled and did a little shimmy, rearranging and composing himself. His face was bright red. "Let's refill our glasses and talk by the fire, ok?," he managed to squeak out. He could lose himself completely with her, and if it was anyone other woman, he probably would. She wasn't any other woman. Nor was this purely a sexual thing. He needed some more clarity. Maybe some more certainty about their relationship.

"Ok."

He took a few minutes in the kitchen to make some fresh hot chocolate, cool off a bit, and collect his thoughts. Could this really be happening? Could he and Angela finally take a more concrete step toward each other? The thought excited and scared him. Their conversation and their make-out session were both hot and heavy.

He filled the mugs and brought them into the living room and set them on the little side tables near the fire. He joined her on the floor, close enough that his arm grazed hers.

"Angela," he began. "I have to tell you, it scares me, being with you. Even taking a baby step like this, having this conversation and whatever the next baby step might be. Even kissing you. It's intense. And god, I love it and I want to keep going," he looked at her suggestively and intensely, "but holy moly, it scares me. Not just for all the reasons I mentioned. I also really love the connection we have and I don't want to lose that."

"I'm scared too. I mean, my marriage failed and it's hard, unpacking that. Then I see what we have, what we've built these last 3 years, and I see you, my first and only true partner in this life. I love and cherish it, Tony. It's everything I never had and I don't want to lose it either." Her eyes were teary again. She paused and then added, "And yet we both know there's more here between us and I think we both want more."

He nodded.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"I trust you completely."

"I trust you too, completely. With my whole heart."

"I don't know the 'how' but I know we have a pretty good track record of being here for each other and supporting each other, as friends and as partners. I think we lean on that trust. We trust that we have the foundation we need to figure this out as we go."

"We can grow together..."

He leaned in and kissed her once more. He felt a little lighter.

"What about the kids? What do we tell them?" He was suddenly nervous for the kids. Memories of the rumors of them last year and Sam knocking out some kid flooded back.

"I think we can tell them we really care about each other and have decided to...date?"

"Yeah. I think that sounds good. I think we remind them that no matter what happens, we'll always be there for them."

"Agreed."

They sat in silence for a bit. The fire crackled and she could feel his stare.

"So...??" She looked around and shrugged. "What about the rest of tonight...???" There was just the slightest hint of suggestion in her tone.

"Angela. I'm wildly attracted to you but I'm not that kind of guy. I mean, you aren't just some babe from Brooklyn. I want to at least take you out on a real date before we... _really_ fool around."

Her face turned a deep crimson. "So are you asking me out?"

"I most certainly am. Next Friday. What do you say I take you to The Starlight Ballroom and you let me be your first _and_ last dance?," he offered suggestively. " _Dance me to the end of love,_ " he crooned.

"Ooooh....I would love that! And Leonard Cohen...how romantic, Tony. We better request that one!" She was ecstatic and eager the way she might have been in high school or college had one of her crushes asked her out with such excitement and confidence. His enthusiasm and certainty were their own kindling, igniting feelings she never knew she had or felt comfortable even feeling.

"But Tony, just one thing?"

"What's that?"

"Well..." She dragged it out, unsure how to proceed.

"Angela, say it."

"It's just...I love that you are such a gentleman and you respect me so much to approach us...well, to approach us _fooling around_ with such consideration."

He shot her a confused look.

"It's just, despite what Mother thinks or says, I have fooled around on first dates."

"What? With who?!" He was taken aback and little waves of jealousy and protectiveness washed over him.

"That's not the point!," she giggled. "The point is...I'm not asking you to put me on a pedestal and treat me like I'm some prima donna who needs months of courting. I enjoy being with you and I want to continue to enjoy it." She paused. What she wanted to say next was forthcoming for her and it embarrassed her a bit to admit to herself how much she wanted him to see her in such a way. Cautiously, hopefully, she added, "I know I'm not one of your _Brooklyn_ babes, but maybe...maybe I can be your Connecticut babe?"

Those hopeful brown eyes of hers, asking to be his, turned him on. "Come here, you." He grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. "You're my only babe," he whispered in huskier voice, as he gently engulfed her in his arms, letting the night dissolve into passionate kisses.


End file.
